To Journey in the Year of the Tiger

by H. Leighton Dickson

  All eyes were upon him.

  He cleared his throat and with gritted molars, forced a smile.

  “Time for tea.”

  ***

  the darkness was swallowing the sun. Shafts of light pierced the clouds but, one by one, their beams snuffed out under the all-pervading blackness. Pol’Lhasa was consumed by shadows, and like the torches of midnight, eyes flickered on all around her, thousands of eyes, an army of yellow, gleaming eyes advancing upon her, flowing up her many steps, surrounding her in a siege of blackness and incense...

  “Kirin?”

  “Hm.”

  “Kirin, wake up.”

  The Captain sat up, blinking the sun and sand from his eyes. Kerris was crouching before him, his ashen grey hair wet and sticking up all over his head.

  “You’ve been sleeping for almost 2 hours.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “’Fraid so. Ask Ursa if you don’t believe me.”

  For a split second, he was sorely tempted and the Captain’s gaze flicked to his Major. Her back was to him but he could see she was busy rolling several rows of fillets that had been drying in the sun. Her hair was wet too, twisted into a tight knot on top of her head, and her white doeskin was patched with dampness. Kirin straightened himself against the rock.

  “You haven’t been swimming, have you?”

  “In that river?” Kerris laughed. “No, thanks. Fishing gets you wet enough. We caught four more. Big ones, too. Ursa’s a good fisherman.” He cocked his head in her direction. “Aren’t you, Ursa my love? A regular fishwife.”

  “Watch it, stableboy,” her long tail lashed behind her. “Or you will be tasting my hooks...”

  “She adores me, really she does. Looks like you’ve found a friend, too.”

  Kirin followed his brother’s glance, to the thick spotted tail resting across his thigh. Beside him, Sherah al Shiva lay curled in a patch of sun, her lean, black-clad body seeming to claim it like a spotlight. He snorted.

  “Alchemists.”

  “The horses are ready, Kirin. Just waiting for riders. Well, I’d better help Ursa with that fish. You know how she gets, living the life of domestic bliss and all.”

  And with that, he left his brother’s side, his good-humor a distinct contrast to the Major’s growling.

  Kirin took a deep breath and looked around.

  Two leopards were only now beginning to rouse themselves from their afternoon naps.

  The other two were still standing sentry and he felt a pang of remorse. With only four guards left, their stamina would be pressed thin as the daily duty rotations took their toll. He would make a point of redistributing their hours some time soon.

  Farther down the rock face, the Seer was beginning to stir. The falcon was perched on his left shoulder but this time, she shared her host with the Scholar who had tucked herself, childlike, under his arm. Kirin found himself smiling, wondering if the lynx Tiberius would have approved such familiarity. Surely such innocence could damage no one’s soul.

  At his own side, however, the Alchemist was another story. Before sleeping, she had loosened the laces at her throat and the milky white pelt of her chest and belly stood out like beams of sunlight in a darkened cavern. The black and silver vestments at her hips splayed skirt-like across the rock beneath her as did her mat of wavy hair. All too familiar, he thought darkly. He lifted her tail away with ginger fingers.

  Claws, strong and black, slid from the tips of her fingers as she engaged in an elaborate stretch from tip of tail to top of head, forcing him to watch every arch and curve of her waking. With a long breath, she rolled into a seated position next to him, her shoulder brushing his. She turned her sleepy golden eyes on him and smiled.

  “Time to go?” she purred.

  She was hypnotic.

  “Yes,” he said.

  More beautiful than the sun.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Like the Empress...

  “It’s time to go.”

  The Empress.

  He stood too quickly, feeling the blood rush from his temples and causing him to breathe deeply to re-orient himself to their new terrain. The Shi’pal roared beneath them and the Captain studied the path ahead. The spray of waters would be a tolerable nuisance, keeping them cool in the heat of the ravine and awake to any dangers it might possess. Ice still crusted her steep banks and he knew at some point they would have to cross. He hoped there would be a bridge for it would be impossible to forge such a river.

  With a quick nod of his head, he strode away from the cheetah, not knowing whether the chill racing up his spine was caused by the cool waters or the golden eyes weighing heavily upon him.

  Farther down the rock face, the Seer nudged the young tigress with his arm.

  “Wake up, Kallilah. I believe the Captain wants to head out.”

  Fallon looked up at him with a wide, floppy grin, slowly blinking the sleep from her eyes.

  “Hmm. Kallilah. That’s an old name. My father used to call me that when I was a little girl.”

  “It suits you.”

  “Yeah. That’s what he used to say.”

  He rose to his feet, waiting patiently as she had yawned so that her tongue curled inside her mouth and stretched so that every joint in her arms popped. Finally, she took the gloved hand offered her and allowed herself to be helped to her feet.

  “Isn’t this river beautiful? This is the Shi’pal, right? Did you know that the Shi’pal has many names? Some places, she’s called Shammah’puthra, and some places she’s called Shang’bun. Depends on your province, I guess. And wow, what fish! I can’t remember eating better fish, although I probably have, ‘cause we used to eat glacier-fish all the time, but I just can’t remember. Maybe I was just really hungry. Yeah, that’s probably it. Well, let’s go then. I just can’t wait to see what we see next.”

  And she strolled away towards her horse, arms swinging, feet bouncing, white-tipped tail tapping out some tune that played inside her head. Sighing, Sireth watched her go, cursing his lapse and fighting back the rush of sadness that threatened to claim him. The falcon chirruped over his shoulder, pushed his cheek with her hooked beak. He stroked her breast.

  “Yes. Yes, I know,” he said softly. “What’s gone is gone. Thank you for your counsel.”

  With that, Path left his shoulder, rising on the updraft from the ravine. She was a silhouette in moments.

  He sighed a second time and looked around at the people, all busy with the business of mounting horses. Suddenly, there was a cold breeze and he turned. The Major was staring at him, scowling as she tucked several dried fillets into her saddlebag. He held it for a heartbeat, that icy stare, then made a point of turning his back to her and headed for his own horse.

  “Right!” called Kerris from the back of his pony. “Everyone ready? Yes? Let’s go then! Adventure awaits!”

  And so, like a river beside a river, the trail of horses moved out, refreshed and renewed for the journey ahead of them.

  ***

  They hadn’t seen the sun for hours. It was growing dark in this deep mountain ravine, the only light reflecting from so many sheets of glacial ice and even that was becoming dim as evening drew closed the first day of their journey. The road had narrowed, the river grown swifter and it was clear that a waterfall must lie ahead, for here they found signs of Ancestors.

  Signposts really, artifacts from ancient days, pipes of rusted metal and great grey boxes split open by the earth, containing nothing of value any longer. But these artifacts were dangerous, as dangerous as anything left behind by the Ancestors and cats had long since learned to be wary of such things. Sometimes, such things killed.

  So it was with some measure of caution that Kerris slid from his pony’s back and disappeared into a cleft in the side of the mountain. Unlike the cliffs of Sha’Hadin, this cave was symmetrical, chiseled with angular precision and reinforced with the smooth grey stone so common throughout the Older Civilizations. And like most
examples of that grey stone, this too was now cracked by vines and alive with the moss that gradually worked to consume it. A fence of twisted red wire lay by the entrance, ready to snag both pelt and cloth if one moved too close. It still kept things out.

  “Right! Safe enough!” called Kerris from within. “This will do for tonight!”

  One by one, the party dismounted and began the process of removing the tack from their horses. The animals would be left to forage on their own for the night for horses were fierce hunters, adept at finding a meal at the expense of the lesser creatures. It wasn’t uncommon for them to go for days on only mice, rabbits and grass. Their riders, however, were more particular.

  “Pigeons,” muttered Ursa as she made her way into the Old cavern. “I smell pigeons.”

  She bent down to gather a few small stones from the floor. She bounced them in her palm, rolled them across her fingers and with a swift sharp motion, flung the stones toward the ceiling. The roof echoed with the sounds of impact and almost instantly she was showered in feathers.

  Several bodies thumped to the ground.

  Fallon’s eyes were wide as she slipped under the threshold and into the Old cavern. She inhaled the musty scent, let her gaze linger over the stark architecture of the room. It seemed to be a series of rooms actually, slick with river spray and rich with moss. In the centre, Kerris had already begun placing the coals for the night’s campfire and she moved to his side immediately.

  “This is amazing, isn’t it?” she breathed.

  “Well, it’s just a pile of coals.”

  “No, I mean, places like this. Old places. Places of history. It must have been a powerful place.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well.” She wrapped her arms ‘round her ribs. “We’re near a waterfall.”

  He glanced up at her. “You don’t really believe those old tales, do you?”

  “Well...”

  “It’s just impossible, now isn’t it? There is simply no way to take fire from water. Any other element, perhaps, but not fire.”

  “Well, maybe not fire.”

  He shook his head and resumed pouring the oil over the coals. She knelt down beside him.

  “But look at the oil.”

  “The oil?”

  “Well, we use the oil to make the fire. And they were smarter than us. Why couldn’t they have used water to make fire?”

  “Because it would get it all wet, now wouldn’t it?”

  “But maybe they didn’t use it to make fire.”

  “But isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

  “Yes.” The tigress nodded.

  “Right then.”

  He bent back down to his work, trying not to look at her. She, however, was still looking at him, as if expecting him to be thinking about something.

  “Maybe you should go help Ursa pluck those pigeons. Feathers do terrible things to my digestion.”

  She stayed beside him, expecting for several moments longer. Finally, she said, “Okay” and left.

  He shook his head.

  It wasn’t long before the scent of incense descended from above and he felt warm breath on his neck. He did not need to look up.

  “’Rah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think the Ancestors could take fire from water?”

  “They were very powerful.”

  He turned his face toward her, knowing she would be but a kiss away.

  “Can you?”

  She smiled.

  “Of course.”

  ***

  The stories began that night.

  Kerris had always been a good storyteller, not only for his remarkable memory for legend and his wealth of personal experience but for the animated way he presented both. In the glow of this late-night fire under the low mossy ceiling which flickered with lamplight, he told his tales. He told them with his whole body, tail slapping, eyes dancing. Alternately on his feet then down to his knees. Kirin could not help but notice that, almost without exception, the entire party was spellbound, taking in the performance with obvious delight. Even the Major seemed to be enjoying herself for she sat cross-legged, picking her teeth with the sharp tine of a feather, her customary scowl replaced by something like a wicked grin. For his part, Kirin thought it a pleasant change.

  Only the Seer seemed distracted. Kirin made a note to speak to him before the night was through.

  “So there we were, hauling this beastly creature out of the poacher’s pit when suddenly the weight increased a hundred-fold!” Kerris’ eyes were as round as blue moons. “It was as if I was hauling the thing up by myself!”

  Fallon let out a little squeal, hands clasped tightly under her chin.

  “Does anyone have any idea how much a baby behemoth weighs? Any idea at all? No? Well, let me assure you that they are very heavy, more than ten men I should think. And it was struggling and bellowing the entire time. I finally got a hold of its trunk, then one of its great floppy ears, and pulled the horrid little thing onto the grass. When at last I caught breath enough to look around, what did I find? That it was true - I had been pulling it up by myself! The rest of my pack was gone, disappeared into the jungle like the dung-beetles that they were!”

  Ursa’s smile broadened. Kirin shook his head.

  “So, there I was, me, by myself, saving this baby behemoth from the poacher’s nets when I feel this puff of hot breath on my neck...”

  Fallon squealed again and Kerris looked at all the faces, his pause dramatic and well timed.

  “And sure enough, when I gather my wits and turn around, what do I see but baby’s great big behemoth Mummie standing behind me!”

  Sherah sat forward. “Tusks?”

  “Huge tusks, my dear! Longer than your cheetah’s tail. Pointed right at me, I might add.”

  “Tusks can be ground up to make many things...”

  “And so can lions, under those great flat feet! I was just sitting there on the grass and there she was, towering over me like the mountains. They have such long noses, you know that? And hers grabbed me, wrapped me right round the middle, and before I knew it, I was in the air, face to face with this baby’s angry mother! I could practically see the red in her beady eyes!”

  Kirin suppressed a smile. The story got better each time Kerris told it. But to his brother’s credit, it was true, every word of it. He had no need of exaggeration.

  “I’ve seen behemoths tear the heads from men’s shoulders,” Ursa snorted. “Split them wide open with one blow from those tusks.”

  “What happened?” yelped the Scholar. “What happened?!”

  “She put me down. Just like that. She put me down and walked away, crunching through the trees with her baby safe at her heels.”

  “Wow,” breathed Fallon, “You’re really lucky.”

  Kerris looked at his brother and grinned. “Yes I am, aren’t I?”

  “Have you ever seen an Ancestor?”

  All eyes turned to the Seer, speaking for the first time all evening and Kirin cursed under his breath.

  “Come again, sidi?” asked Kerris.

  “I mean, images of Ancestors. Carvings. Reliefs. Books, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh yes. Many, many times.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No.” Finally, Kirin rose to his feet. “Not tonight. It is time to rest. We have an early start in the morning.”

  Silenced, benAramis averted his eyes as though guilty of breaking some unspoken taboo. But the Scholar was eager.

  “Please sir, I think we all would love to hear –”

  “I said, not tonight.”

  She was crestfallen.

  And the party rose to their feet, breaking the warmth of the fire circle and moving towards their respective bedrolls. Kirin grabbed the Seer by the arm, his voice low and threatening.

  “Not you, sidi. A word outside.”

  It was not a question.

  There was a spark of defiance, but only a spark and it die
d quickly under the Captain’s glare. He nodded slightly and followed Kirin into the night. Only Ursa watched them go.

  ***

  “What were you thinking?!”

  Sireth said nothing.

  “Please tell me, sidalord Seer, for I wish to understand what you hope to accomplish by this game.”

  Kirin was pacing a small, furious circle, fists clenching and unclenching as he sought to rein in his temper. Several lengths away, the cliffs of the Shi’pal dropped into her glacial waters, sweeping the mountain snows over the falls to far distant valleys. Even in the bright moonlight, she was as black as the night. The Seer stood staring at the ground, saying nothing.

  “After all,” Kirin continued, “It was you who said this was madness, wasn’t it? That you could tell no one but the Empress the fact that we are seeking an Ancestor? That it would be - what was the word - devastation, if anyone knew?”

  Still nothing.

  “Do you think that they will be any more eager to find this, this ‘Soul’ if they know what we know? Do you wish to frighten them with all this talk? Or do you merely seek to satisfy your own curiosity? Please tell me, sidi, for I truly wish to know.”

  It seemed for a moment that the Seer was about to speak, but thought better of it and continued to stare at the ground. Growling, Kirin folded his arms across his chest.

  “Very well then. You have nothing to say now to me, I expect you to have nothing to say later to anyone. I will have no more talk of Ancestors, is that clear? This journey is dangerous enough without—”

  “I saw him.”

  “You what?”

  Now, Sireth did look up, eyes bright.

  “Solomon. I saw him. Last night, I saw an Ancestor.”

  The Captain had no response for him. In truth, the very idea of seeing an Ancestor was enough to send chills up his own spine. They simply did not exist anymore, had not for Dynasties and their departure had been the cause of much speculation. In fact, differing beliefs regarding their demise had, on many occasions, nearly rent the Kingdom in two. It was a volatile subject, and cats are after all, a volatile people.